So that's a 'nay' on the slavering hellbeasts trying to devour him, Fortescue thinks, feeling large amounts of confusion and alarm as Dilandau tugs her in. She doesn't resist, though her other hand is still on her gun. Her gaze tracks anxiously around the room in certain spots she's been trained to case, looking for potential danger. But there's no one else in the room, and he doesn't seem to be injured. Or is he? In the dim light, it's hard to tell.

Fortescue frowns down at him. As much as they might clash, she doesn't actively wish any harm against him.

"Are you all right? Did something hurt you?"